


memories kept close (in the walls, in a photograph)

by WishingTree



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Gen, and of the day the homestead was attacked so warning for that, mentions of willa and their dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 09:18:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6748057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WishingTree/pseuds/WishingTree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While scouring the homestead, Wynonna finds boxes full of stuff. Just some old junk, really. Bonafide crap, nothing of worth.</p><p>Until she finds something that is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	memories kept close (in the walls, in a photograph)

**Author's Note:**

> Set after episode 5

Wynonna finds the boxes inside a wall, of all places. A decrepit, holey old wall, that she most certainly does not accidentally break down when she trips over her own boot and falls into it.

…This isn’t the kind of thing that should happen in a real house.

“Ugh,” she groans, hacking a cough and squinting through the haze of dust in the air. Waving a hand in front of her face, she cranes her neck around, realizing she must be in some kind of boarded up storage closet or something. “Damn, this place really is falling apart,” she muses, unconcerned that she seems to be talking to herself. There are bigger things for her to worry about. 

Like how she’s going to fix the Earp homestead’s brand new opening next to the attic stairs. And how she’s supposed to make sure Waverly isn’t going to fall through the floor or something. That would be bad.

It’s surprisingly comfortable, lying on her ass in the wreckage, but she pushes herself up, not wanting to know what the years worth of dust is doing to her hair. Standing carefully, she wipes the palms of her hands on her jeans and steps cautiously inside, ducking her head under the hanging support beams. She holds a hand in front of her mouth in a vain attempt not to inhale the dust floating in the air.

This new space she’s discovered (through cunning and stealth, dammit) isn’t very big, only just wide enough for her to stretch her arms out sideways and maybe 5 feet long. There are stacks of poorly sealed cardboard boxes lining the walls, all in various states of deterioration.

Her not-so-subtle entrance had coated the contents with another layer of dust and dirt and drywall, but it’s clear to see that there had already been an inch of dust over everything, the room probably untouched since they’d left the homestead.

Scrutinizing everything around her, Wynonna shrugs and blows some hair out of her face, choosing the box at the top of the closest stack. Lifting it sends even more dirt billowing into the air, and Wynonna cringes away from it, coughing into her shoulder and resisting the urge to rub at her eyes. She wonders if she’s somehow managed to find an entire town’s worth of dust, packed into a forgotten room at the homestead. She’s been in literal crypts with less dust than this, and stranger things have happened in Purgatory.

Opening the box reveals a mess of papers, recipes mixed what Wynonna would guess were tax forms, along with some maps and crap. Adult stuff she had no interest in, but Waverly might find some of it appealing.

She picks up a sheaf of papers and flicks through them quickly, seeing more of Waverly’s crayon drawings. She smiles at the childish depictions of their family, the homestead, what were probably some assorted animals. Some are just pages full of scribbles, but she makes sure those are tucked securely with the others before putting them down and pushing the box aside.

She crouches down and wrenches open another box, but the way she suddenly has the breath knocked out of her has nothing to do with the totally predictable cloud of even more dust that gets kicked up.

 

_“I’m the heir, I don’t need a baby blanket,” Willa declared imperiously, crossing her arms and standing next to the couch. “Besides, I’m 6, I’m not a baby."_

_4-year-old Wynonna bounced eagerly, “I’ll take it! Daddy, can I have it?"_

_“Wynonna, hold still, you’re going to mess up your braid before I finish it.” Ward Earp waited for her to settle down again before he continued talking. "If Willa really doesn’t want her blanket, then you can have it."_

_“Yay!” Wynonna reached out, making grabby hands with chubby little toddler fingers, and Willa rolled her eyes and handed it over. “Two blankies means two times the snuggles,” Wynonna informed her older sister seriously, eyes wide and sparkling._

_“Whatever, Wynonna,” Willa waved her hand and climbed onto the couch next to her, pretending to ignore the way her sister wriggled happily and clutched the blanket in her lap._

 

Reaching into the box, Wynonna hesitantly swipes her fingers against the soft material, staring at the blue blanket folded neatly next to the purple one.

At 6 years old, Waverly had taken her baby blanket with her when they’d moved out, but the soft material Wynonna is fingering now she instinctively recognizes as her own, right next to Willa’s old one. Even though the colors aren't quite what she remembers, and the pattern she doesn’t remember at all, she recognizes them.

The side of her mouth curves up in a sad smile, and she gently pushes them aside, revealing the rest of the box’s contents. One of Momma’s figurines, a set of old toy trains, what is literally just a pile of crumpled cardboard but was probably once an art project, and their old bag of marbles.

Wynonna pulls at the drawstring of the marble pouch, remembering how she’d never been allowed to be in charge of them because as a baby she'd keep trying to eat them. Younger than her, Waverly had never presented a choking risk for that, but she would get distracted by the pretty colors and stow them all over the house instead of returning them to the bag. Willa was a much bigger fan of flicking them at different targets to see how good her aim was, and Wynonna remembered the day Willa had finally gotten Momma in the back of the head. Momma had heaved a long-suffering sigh and scooped them all up, telling the three of them that they weren’t allowed to play with marbles anymore.

Apparently she’d shoved the bag in here, to be forgotten until one ex-marble-eating human wrecking ball named Wynonna Earp stumbled upon them again.

The bag tips to the side when she tugs slightly too hard, uncovering a slip of paper wedged underneath it. Wynonna blinks and pulls it out, flipping it over and letting out a surprised gasp.

The photograph is old, bent and yellowing around the edges, but the image is still clear to see. 

It’s a picture of them in colorful pyjamas, sitting at the dining room table. Waverly is no more than 3 years old, standing on a chair in between Willa’s legs with chocolate on her face and her arms spread wide, animatedly telling some kind of story while Willa keeps careful arms around her, making sure she won’t fall. Wynonna, maybe 6 or 7 years old, is sitting on her own chair next to them, face twisted into a wide grin as she reaches for a cookie from the plate set in the middle of the table.

The all look so _happy_  in the picture, and Wynonna can practically hear the laughter, Waverly babbling excitedly, Willa being the perfect older sister.

 

_"Remember girls, 10 more minutes and then it’s bedtime."_

_"But, Daddy…"_

_"I’m not tired!"_

_“Okay, how ‘bout this. You girls go to bed on time tonight, and then tomorrow we’ll have an old-fashioned cookout under the stars, huh? How’s that sound?"_

Wynonna's eyes are watering (because of the dust, it’s dusty in here) and she coughs again. The fingers on the hand not holding the photograph clench into a fist, and she squeezes her eyes shut.

 

_You said they can’t attack the house!_

_They figured out how to get around the bedrock_ –

_What’s happening?_

_I got the gun, Daddy_ – _there’s so many of them_ –

 _There’s 7 of them_ –

_Willa!_

Willa _… Willa!_

_You can’t help, you aren’t the heir!_

_Shotgun won’t work, he needs Wyatt’s gun_ – 

 _No! No, no, don’t_ –

 _Daddy_ –

_Daddy!_

There’s screaming and panic and fear, and _responsibility, Willa, it’s your responsibility._  Glass shattering, screaming, gunshots, _Earp family heir, destiny, I won’t let them hurt anyone_ , screaming and fire and – 

“Wynonna? You up there?” Waverly’s voice comes up the stairs, real and alive and 21 years old, shaking Wynonna from her reverie.

“I’ll be down in a second!” she calls back, sticking the photograph into her pocket and haphazardly shovelling the worthwhile crap back into the two boxes. They can come back and sort through the rest later.

She slaps the lids on and stacks them on top of each other, sticking her tongue out and gagging as she grabs them. She wonders how many years of dirt she just inhaled. Wynonna hastily picks her way back through the opening and into the relatively clean hallway of the homestead, finally letting herself take some deep breaths.

Waverly is waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase, leaning against the banister, and her eyes widen in surprise when Wynonna clomps into view.

“Wynonna, what have you been _doing_? I almost thought you were a Revenant, with how much dirt you’ve got on you."

“What, you don’t think this is a good look for me?” Wynonna says, mock offended as she looks down at her dirt-streaked arms and filthy clothes. She can feel the layers of grime caked on her, and Waverly rolls her eyes, grinning even as she crinkles her nose in disgust.

“It’s gross, is what it is, and you definitely get first shower. Now what’s all that?"

“I found a bunch of crap upstairs, there was some kind of boarded up storage area I guess everyone forgot about,” Wynonna tells her, coming to a stop on the bottom step, "There’s also a bit of a hole in the wall near the attic stairs, but that’s definitely not my fault."

“What do you mean, a bit of a hole?"

“Like… most of the wall is caved in. I’ll fix it, don’t worry."

Waverly raised an eyebrow, and Wynonna puts on her most convincing smile before propping the boxes onto the railing and holding them in place with one hand.

“I uh,” Wynonna shuffles around her pockets, coming up with the slightly bent photograph. She looks at it for a moment before holding it out for Waverly. “I found this picture. Of Willa."

Waverly takes it from her, watching the way Wynonna can’t quite meet her eyes before looking down at the picture. Wynonna waits wordlessly, watching as Waverly holds it close to her face, furrowing her brow as if examining one of her ancient texts.

“She’s laughing,” Waverly whispers after a moment, “I can - I remember her laughing.”

It might be a strange thing to say when staring at an old photograph so intently, but Wynonna knows what she means. Sometimes the only thing she can remember of Willa is her scream.

Wynonna clears her throat and nods, looking down at the boxes stacked in her arms. “Right. So, I also found this stuff, and it’s in pretty decent condition, I’m gonna go put it down. You can keep that picture, if you want. Please don’t go near the broken wall, I gotta - I’m gonna go fix it."

She hefts up the boxes again and leaves Waverly at the foot of the stairs, manoeuvring around her and awkwardly tapping the toes of her boot gently against her little sister’s shin as she passes.

She goes to dump the boxes in the living room, hearing Waverly trail after her.

“Daddy took this?"

“Yeah, none of that creepy Rev stalker shit.” Wynonna grunts as she bends over and lets the boxes land with a thump next to the unused fireplace. She straightens and turns back to Waverly, slipping her hands into her back pockets and giving her a lopsided smile. “That’s an authentic Earp family picture there."

Waverly suddenly tackles her in a hug, and Wynonna starts in surprise, arms raised away on instinct. 

“Thanks, sis,” Waverly murmurs into her shoulder, squeezing tight.

“Yeah, no problem,” Wynonna wraps one arm around her little sister and uses the other one to pat the back of her head.

_I’m sorry._

She nuzzles her cheek against Waverly’s hair, scrunching her eyes shut while Waverly can’t see her face.

“There were a whole bunch of other boxes up there,” Wynonna says as Waverly pulls away, “And I’m pretty sure I saw Mr. Fuzzles poking out of one of them."

Waverly gasps, actually bouncing on her feet. “No! Really?” She squeals, already grabbing Wynonna’s hand and yanking her back towards the stairs. “Come on, lets go get him!"

Wynonna laughs and lets herself get dragged through the house. "You sure you want to get that pretty outfit of yours dirty?" she asks, gesturing at Waverly's sundress, "I didn't just go rolling in the dirt 'cause I felt like it, you know."

"Oh no? I just assumed that was the whole human disaster schtick you got going on."

"Hey!

"Just telling it like it is!"

"Okay, just for that, you're going into the place where dust bunnies go to die first, _and_ I still get first shower."


End file.
